The Ultimate Vengeance
by GameFourAnything
Summary: This is it. The final time. She will have the vengeance to end all vengeance. Never again will he take what is rightfully hers. FINAL CHAPTER UP! W00T! Find out what happens next!
1. Chapter 1

I don't own Invader Zim or any of these characters. They all belong to Jhonen Vasquez. (Did I spell it right?)

Chapter One

She wasn't limited to just this one thing. She could do many other things. In fact, she could do anything she put her mind to, anything at all.

But what she was known and feared for above everything else was vengeance. It was the strongest motivating force she knew. When the circumstances required her to do so, she could lie quietly, awaiting her opportunity for as long as she had to.

To one who didn't know her better, it could look as if she had forgotten all about it. But appearances could be very deceptive. Icy on the outside, she was a boiling volcano beneath the surface, and the more she brooded over the injustice done to her, the angrier she became.

That actually granted her an advantage in this case; she wanted to unleash the full force of her furious indignation on that idiot. This time she would take her vengeance farther than she had ever taken it before.

He thought he was so great, but she knew he was only looking for approval. She also knew he was nothing but an idiot who talked endlessly about nothing but himself and his own self-centered fantasies. Someone so stupid and inept that he hadn't already conquered the planet enslaving all human life on it? Right, that was a good one. Being forced to listen to his insane rambling had made her want to scream, but at least that much would soon be over. Once she had finished dealing out her vengeance, she could finally turn around and walk away from him. Though one would expect that there would be a basic allegiance between them, no matter what the dispute of the moment, he mattered not a whit to her.

Nobody took away what was rightfully hers. She now vowed that she would make him pay dearly for what he had taken from her, and she always kept her vows. And once she saw her chance to even the score, nothing could stand in her way. Her fury would be all the deadlier for her having had to wait.

She knew that the object of her rage was no match for her, but that still wouldn't save him. She had always known he was nothing but a despicable failure who was desperately kept striving to appear in some way useful, but this time he had gone too far.

As she set out on her mission, a smirk appeared on her face. She made no effort to hide it; why should she? She was on a holy mission, to wound one who had taken something important from her. She was going to wound him deeply, to make him hurt as he had never been hurt before, indeed as she had never made anyone hurt before. She knew right where to aim to hurt him the most; she knew right where he lived.

This time, he would never, ever forget what she did to him. And he would never risk her wrath again. Few people who actually survived the full strength of her unleashed rage ever did.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

When she strode up to him so purposefully, filled to bursting with fiery determination, he had looked up from whatever stupidity he was doing and smiled. Even with what lay ahead of him, he dared to smile. Oh, if he only knew.

Even though she didn't ask and wasn't about to, immediately he began telling her all about whatever idiotic, senseless nonsense he had been doing when she approached.

Oh, that voice! She hated that whiny voice, had always hated it. He babbled on and on about nothing, as usual, blissfully blind to the rage that had to be showing on her face, an expression combining icy sadism with grim satisfaction.

It wasn't enough that he had the most irritating voice in the universe, oh no. On top of being supremely irritating, the voice never said anything intelligent. But all his nonsense was cut off as suddenly as if she had turned off a video when, without warning, her hand lashed out and slapped him right across that stupid face.

All he did was whine, "Why?" as he rubbed his face, dumbly staring at her.

That he hadn't seen it coming made her all the angrier. Sure, he wasn't the brightest, but he really ought to have at least known that.

She never stooped to explain herself to anyone before and she certainly wasn't going to do so this time. Instead she punched him in the face, and he began to whimper. "Why?" he whined again.

"Take a guess, idiot."

Then the kicks started. The first one landed low in his belly, shooting through his entire body fiery electric bolts of agony that doubled him over and dropped him to the floor like a rock with a short yelp. Seeing him lying helplessly in front of her like that, she could not resist flipping him over for a good stomp to the belly. As she drove her heel deep into him, whatever junk he had last eaten shot out of his mouth and across the floor. With the second kick she lifted him from the floor, and the third kick sent him flying into the wall.

As she kept kicking him into one wall after another, all he could think was, He didn't do anything! He was just in the house all day! In desperation he began screaming he didn't do anything bad, he never did anything bad.

This only made her even angrier so he stopped screaming, but she didn't get any less angry. His every joint was on fire as she kicked him into first one wall, then another with ever increasing fury. Finally an unbelievable burst of pain shook an arm loose at the shoulder. His piteous shriek only spurred her on to greater heights of violence; she now occasionally paused this one-sided football game to pick him up by one or two of his remaining limbs and slam him against the sharp edge of the doorway or the table.

He now began to get really, really scared; could he die from this? When one particularly carefully aimed kick smashed the glass in front of one of his eyes, he covered his eyes with his hands and screaming, rolled into a tight ball. He desperately wished she would go away, go away and take his pain with her, but the pain that stabbed into him from the darkness was even scarier. At least before he could anticipate where the next kick would be coming from and turn his face and belly away from it, but now he had no way of knowing.

"Stop, stop, please stop!"

His pleas only made her angrier still, so he stopped begging; again this did not help either. As the attack continued he began to cry, and that made it worse than ever.

"I'll... teach... you... I'll... teach... you... " She grabbed him by the head, grinned wickedly, and prepared to pull. She was enjoying this. She had certainly made her point by now, but even if she hadn't, one thing was certain.

At least his stupid, endless talk about nothing would be silenced forever.


	3. Chapter 3

We've got quite a few people reading this one, but they've been pretty quiet. So far...

Chapter 3

Zim came home from another day at skool. Today Tak had been absent, but he hadn't had much time to concern himself with that, what with Dib following him everywhere with that new camera of his. But in any event, skool was finished for the day and he was now home at last and could make his report to the Tallest and plan of a new way to take over the earth and destroy Dib. He walked up to his house, and opened the Men's room door...

on a truly gruesome scene of unimaginable horror. Oil was smeared everywhere, all over the walls and dripping from the ceiling.

"What is THIS?" Zim screamed in a furious rage. "This can only be the work of THE DIB!" Even though he had been followed by Dib all day, his first thought upon seeing the destruction was that only Dib could had done it.

Something moving on the floor caught Zim's eye; instantly he glanced downward, and gasped in shock, he, Zim, who was afraid of nothing.

Gir's head had been yanked from his little body and was rolling around on the floor aimlessly, smearing his oil all over the floor as if it was blood. The mess on the floor had matched and was now beginning to outdo the dripping mess on the walls and ceiling. By now Gir's entire head, including his face, was completely coated with black, dripping oil. The familiar, well-loved little cyan eyes were repeatedly fading to black and trying to light up

again, shining faintly through the oil as the little mouth repeated endlessly, "... Masta she hurting m- Masta she hurting m- Masta she hurting m... "

"Gir! Say something else! Who did this? TELL MEEEE!"

"Masta she hurting m- Masta she hurting m- Masta she hurting m... "

Zim had to know if Gir was still in actual pain, or if his voice chip was merely the only part of him that now operated, if this had been the little robot's final utterance before being shut down forever. He forced himself to peer closer. "Gir? Gir, can you hear me?"

"...Masta she hurting m- Masta she hurting m- Masta she hurting m... "

Zim now noticed that all the glass had been smashed out of one of Gir's eyes; the slow blue flashes were coming from only one eye. Whether or not Gir could still see any more, Zim wanted Gir to know his beloved Master had come home to him one final time.

"Gir? Are you still alive in there?"

"...Masta she hurting m- Masta she hurting m- Masta she hurting m... "

There wasn't much that moved Zim to compassion, but he couldn't stand it when Gir cried. He could not bear to listen to these pitiful cries much longer; it was too painful. "Stop! STOP!"

"...Masta she hurting m- Masta she hurting m- Masta she hurting m... "

"Stop saying that any more!" Zim screamed. He could only fervently hope Gir was beyond pain now.

"...Masta she hurting m- Masta she hurting m- Masta she hurting m... "

"Be silent! I ORDER YOU!"

"...Masta she hurting m- Masta she hurting m- Masta she hurting m... "

Only when Zim looked up from what remained of his lovable SIR unit did he notice the many crushed, mangled and scorched pieces of Gir scattered around his kitchen, an arm here, a hand there, a leg somewhere else, tangled or impaled on any sharp, projecting object available. His faithful SIR unit, his companion, his link to his home and all that was Irken, was demolished beyond repair.

Only one more thing remained for Zim to notice, and when he was unable to bear the sight any more and turned away, he finally did.

Across the floor, carved into the linoleum by a spider leg dipped in oil were the long, jagged letters spelling out, "I told you I'd get you good next time. Tak."

Teh End! Not exactly what you were expecting, I bet. ;-)


End file.
